Immediately, CJ had been struck by the loveliness of Percy. He’d almost declined even going into the coffee shack when he saw Percy standing in the snow, pale brown skin and lustrous eyes and curly auburn hair all standing starkly against the pure, driving white from the sky. If not for the cold, he would have turned it down, and when the subject of going home with him came up, innocent and kind as it may have been, CJ couldn’t very well say yes.
Of course, with even a little bit of pressure from Percy, CJ had caved. So his resolve wasn’t actually steel. Or iron. Maybe…tin. A will of tin.
He walked past with an armful of stuff, heading down the short hallway, and dropped something on his way. CJ leaned down to pick up the scrap of fabric. Soft. Small.
Oh god.Heat crashed through CJ’s face and neck and he completely froze up. It was a pair of black briefs. He was just casually standing here, holding Percy’s underwear. Great way to say thank you for letting him stay here out of the cold.
“Oh fuck.” Percy jogged over and yanked them out of CJ’s grip.
“I’m sorry.”
“Sorry? No, god. I’m the idiot leaving dirty underwear in his living room.” Percy was making absolutely zero eye contact, and CJ was a bit thankful; maybe he wouldn’t notice the still burning flush in CJ’s cheeks.
Percy ran down the hallway, chucking them into his bedroom, then gestured to the couch. “You can totally park it here. Book your ride. I’ve got nothing but time.”
“Right. Yeah.” CJ headed for the sofa and lowered himself down, digging his phone back out. The ride share app had reset, since he took too long, so he punched his info back in again. He just needed to get a little way down the road.
A notice came across the top of the app, bold white text inside of a red ribbon:
The area in question is currently experiencing dangerous winter weather. Services are currently suspended. We’re sorry for the inconvenience.
“Um, how long is the offer to hang here good for?” Of all the things to nail down, where he was going to be able to stay to weather this storm seemed like an important bit of info to have a grasp on.
Percy’s voice carried over from the small kitchenette behind the couch. “I’m not going back out in that storm unless absolutely necessary. So you’re welcome to keep your bones warm here. Everything good?”
CJ turned around to look over the back of the sofa. “Between looking for a ride at the coffee stand and getting here, the app closed off services for safety purposes. Not taking any ride requests.”
“Shit, I didn’t even know they…I don’t know,caredthat much about the people driving for them.”
Most didn’t. CJ knew that from first-hand experience. The dangers of working corporate PR: you got way too good of an idea of how little these big companies actually gave a shit about anyone. Which was why CJ chose to go withthisparticular ride share service. They were the kind of company that would actually send out a notice like that, sacrificing money for safety. A little penance on his part, turning some of the money from covering for assholes around to support someone trying to do a little bit of good in the world.
At the moment, though, CJ had to very seriously consider using one of their competitors. It wouldn’t settle well from a moralistic sense, but it would get him where he needed to be.
A hand on his shoulder knocked CJ out of his focus, his worries, his deliberations. Percy was just resting his hand there, brows knitting toward the center of his forehead. “Is there something I can do to help, here? I don’t think anyone’s really getting through all this mess until they can plow, and they won’t bother with that until the snow stops. Or at least seriously slows down.”
CJ followed his gaze to the window, looking out over his little postage stamp front yard. The snow had already climbed more than halfway up the glass. It had been hell and a half just getting up to the front door, and CJ pretty seriously doubted they’d have made it here at all if not for Percy’s pickup truck.
Not by any stretch the worst storm CJ had seen, but it wasn’t a good one either.
And if it was so bad that he was commenting on it, and so bad that Percy, who lived with this kind of weather, didn’t want to go back into it, how could he insist some gig working rideshare driver come and pick his privileged ass up in the same conditions?
“I might need someone to run me over to the motel. If I can get a room there.” He should at least try, right? There wasn’t any viable alternative.
Percy pulled his hand back, shaking his head. But not pityingly or anything like that. Firmly, like CJ was wrong and Percy could see the answer. A smile crept across his lips, pulling them up and driving dimples into his cheeks. “Just crash here until the storm clears out. It’s not the Ritz Carlton, but I do provide room service.”
CJ’s heart thrummed, forcing heat out of his limbs and up into his face as his mind chased unwanted—and unwarranted—thoughts around and around. Of course he shouldn’t impose on Percy even further. But would spending some time here with him be so caustic? Or would it afford him a chance to see more than a little flash of his lower back, the flexing of his neck muscles…
Visions of Percy, a lithe body exposed to nothing but candlelight, writhed and twisted through CJ’s imagination, and the blood and heat rushed out of his head and down to his cock. He was bricking up hardcore at just the thought that hemightget to see Percy shirtless. This infatuation was definitely taking hold. Stronger than he could remember it with any of other dozens—maybe hundreds—of cute baristas he’d come across, running around the country for work all these years. Something immediately infectious about him.
He definitely shouldn’t stay. His motives were far from pure, clearly. And Percy, out of the kindness of his heart—not the straining of his dick, like CJ—was offering him board. He couldn’t take advantage of that kindness.
Percy waved lackadaisically toward the kitchenette. “I’ve got frozen chicken strips and onion rings, and a not-insignificant amount of booze. If that sweetens the deal at all. Oh, and those packets of hot apple cider.”
“Well a man in my position can hardly turn down onion rings.” It was patently ridiculous to stay here, but no cell in his body was willing to let him leave. Maybe that was just because of the weather out there, his natural survival instinct. He had a pretty strong feeling it was more to do with the hard lines of Percy’s collarbones and the thought of a road-trip fling.
Oh, and the insistent bulge in his pants. That was a big factor.
But he could settle for claiming it was onion rings.
